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Yellow light from the tall parking lamps beamed through the darkness. Recent rain hung heavy in the air. Not looking forward to the trek to her car, Vi scowled at her feet.
“Need assistance?” Rory slipped an arm behind her knees, swinging her into his chest. His beard rubbed her cheek. He stepped from the curb as if she weighed nothing.
Vi relaxed and inhaled his scent as he carried her to the car. Tears prickled behind her eyes. She’d miss his strong arms. He set her feet on the ground, steadying her with such care she choked back a sob. This relationship she wanted so badly could never work.
“What’s going on, Vi?”
Her mind shrouded in despair, she couldn’t utter a word, fixating on his once-shiny shoes, now rain-splashed from puddles. Vi rubbed her bare arms in the chilly breeze.
Rory bent close to her ear. “It’s been a long evening. All you have to do is get in your car and drive to Paige’s. I’ll be right behind you all the way.”
When he walked away, steps firm and purposeful, she put her forehead on the steering wheel. Probably better they hadn’t kissed tonight. It had been hard enough to forget their kiss in the hospital. Keeping her distance had succumbed to the sheer joy of having him in her life. Until the maternity home banner, she hadn’t even remembered why staying away mattered.
At Paige’s, she hobbled up the veranda steps and into the house with Rory’s help. Cyrus bustled out with a woof, wriggling with pleasure at her appearance. At this hour, she assumed Paige and Brenna were asleep.
Rory leaned into her. “Is it okay if I wind down here? A cup of coffee sounds wonderful.”
She held onto his arm for balance and lost no time taking off the weaponized heels. She should end this now. “Perfect. I’ll have hot chocolate.”
“Of course.” Rory gazed at her as if he was sealing away the memory in a vault. “I adore the dress. But if you want to change into more comfortable clothes, I’m fine with it.”
She frowned. “What about you?”
A snicker bubbled up her throat when he shrugged his I’m-the-boss shoulders out of his tux jacket. “Minus the coat and bowtie, I’m a new man.” Her insides swooned at his rakish grin.
It should be a crime for a man to be so handsome after midnight. His dusky red hair glowed in the low lighting, nickel-colored eyes entirely too alert. He was such glorious fun. Precisely the reason it had become a herculean effort to let go.
She scampered into the bedroom, delighted over liberation from all things gala. A little more time with him …
Rory pulled out two cups and grabbed the carafe of cold coffee. He poured a cup and stuck it in the microwave, treasuring the memory of the way Vi had looked tonight. The hair, her dress. He smiled, remembering how she leaned on him for support as the evening wore on. Grateful for spiky heels—though he hoped her ankle hadn’t suffered a setback. He tore a packet of chocolate open, sprinkling it into a cup. He hurried to fix their beverages. The sofa would be a more comfortable place to talk.
He’d settled in, and Vi joined him. Her eyes drooped. She’d been awake too long, and her hair had come undone. She stilled when he tucked a strand back into the ropy braid, then sat close enough so their shoulders touched. Cyrus padded over and lay down, covering her bare feet, as if he knew they hurt. As they sipped their drinks, the clock on the mantle chimed 1 a.m.
“So, what did you think of the grand gala?” Rory set his mug aside, then laced his fingers through hers.
Vi swallowed the last of her chocolate. “No exaggeration with the grand. It exceeded my expectations, but I enjoyed it.” She gazed at him. “Because of you.” Leaning down, she petted Cyrus.
Warmth radiated through Rory’s body. “I think you two have bonded.” He wished it had happened with him, but the dog was enough for now.
Her eyes wouldn’t meet his.
Inwardly, he sighed. He needed to address the elephant in the room. No way she would ever talk about it otherwise. He gently gripped her hand. “Red, we need to talk.”
She shrank into the sofa.
Tell her.
Okay. I’m praying you have my back here, Lord. You’re the only one who knows what’s going on in her sweet little head.
Rory plunged into deep waters. “Vi, you know I want to kiss you.”
Longing passed over her delicate features for the barest instant, and then confusion set in. “You said you wouldn’t initiate any more kisses.”
He stroked his beard, thinking how best to answer. “It needed saying—I stepped over the line when I kissed you at the hospital, and you deserved the assurance I wouldn’t do it again. But it doesn’t mean I don’t want to.”
Her eyes lit with understanding as the meaning of his words sank in.
Doggedly, Rory continued, “Here’s the deal. However much I want to kiss you, you need to be okay with it. So, I’m going to ask”—he put his other hand on hers—“because it’s not in my heart to take something you don’t want to give.”
